The Minutes of Our Last Meeting – Bullet Bouquets
“Their Bullets Did More Damage To My Heart Than They Did To Your Pancreas.”
Bad Day
I wrote this under distress.
The day began to my wife waking me up in my hotel room before sunrise. I thought someone had died. They had.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?